Fate's Strings
by Mikka K-chan
Summary: **YAOI** Reincarnation. Fate. Hate. Love. Those who are living were once dead- and unless they get over their hate, they will be once again. Soon.


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Duo-kun :: And welcome to another totally uneventful prologue to a totally uneventful (and boring) fanfiction. I'm your host, star, idol, God….

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Others :: _sweatdrop_

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K-chan :: Err… this is the prologue to a Fushigi Yuugi reincarnation fiction that will most likely either star Amiboshi or Tasuki (thoughts on which one should be the star should be helpful- but I keep having weird dreams about them being step-brothers. SCARY.). This prologue is EXTREAMLY badly written- it captures very little of the general 'theme' of the plot, and is written quite different than the way everything else is. But, I think it gives you a bit of a 'sense' of the plot.

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Duo-kun :: Do you EVER talk normally?

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Seiji :: _monotone_ K-chan does not own Fushigi Yuugi itself. She owns two posters, all of the videos, the OAV's, all the translated manga and some of the original, many plot ideas, all of the CDs she could find, random names, and the voices in her head…. But she does not own Fushigi Yuugi itself. If you sue her, you are a fool. Now I'm going to go meditate. Working with a physco, a bug, and a Ryu-wanna-be is exhausting.

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Duo-kun :: Errr…. On with the 'fic'? Ehh… yeah. Oh- hints of YAOI. Homophobics, go die.

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There is a time when the truth hurts more then the lie.

There is a time when the truth is the only thing that can be told.

There is a time when the truth can kill.

There is a time…

And that time is now.

__ **Fate's Strings**

Two boys- men, really, or at least young adults- walked. Nothing was out of the ordinary- their pace was neither fast nor slow, their footsteps neither long nor short.

Red hair fell in front of burning brown eyes, covering the slight wetness that shook in them.

"It doesn't make since- it doesn't make a fucking piece of sense! He's a fucking jerk, who makes her cry, who hurts her, who doesn't spend a fucking cent on her, who's always busy. And she still fucking loves the bastard! She fucking loves him!".

No reply was given- no reply was needed. What would the reply have been? _'It does. He's not, she cries because she loves him, he doesn't hurt her, he's a broke college student, and he spends plenty of time with her_'? That reply wouldn't help anything- the rage was too built up for it. So silence greeted the words.

"It's not… it's not fucking fair.".

Softer brown eyes looked sadly at the other, although the face remained a mask of apathy.

"I know.".

They continued walking, silent.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A mud soaked green-eyed child tumbled the rest of the way home, holding his books to his chest as tightly as he could.

'_I won't cry, I won't. I won't hurt mama anymore._'

If only he was more like his older brother, then he could help their aged mother a bit better. But no. He didn't have many skills, there wasn't much he could do around their farm. Intelligence was of no use to a farmer's son, he knew.

But what could he do when intelligence was all he had going for him? What could he do when it was the only skill he could do anything with?

He wiped his eyes and continued on his way home- still waiting for the next child to push him back down.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two dark-haired boys walked out of a theater house.

One was an actor. Thin, handsome, and intelligent looking.

  
One was a stagehand. Burly, ugly, and dumb looking.

Are stereotypes true? Sometimes. In this case, at least.

No words were exchanged- what could they talk about? There were no topics, no words that suited them both. The only thing they had in common was the theater- and an actor and a stagehand had little to say to one and other.

Only the theater, and a past full of pain.

But neither would speak about that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A melody drifted softly from a street corner where a musican leaned against a street-sign playing. A melody that spoke of a heart-wrenching sorrow that made one cry to think of- but a melody that spoke of hope.

The music continued until the player spotted the one he was waiting for. A small smile spread across his face, and he walked over to meet the one who was his mirror image.

Grins were exchanged, but words stayed silent. Words weren't overly needed around one you knew as well- if not better- than yourself. So silence echoed in the air, and the two blonds walked softly home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Right on Main Street and Sakura Park's corner of Tokyo, many people passed by.

Martyn O'Kelly, known as "Genrou" to his closer friends was heartbroken. It was a condition he didn't like to speak of- but the cheerful Yuuki Miaka had captured his heart with just smiling look. However, with just another smile, she would be strongly attached to her boyfriend, Taka, as always.

Chishun Houjun suffered from the same problem- unrequired love. He would never let Genrou find out about it, though- although the red-head would never do anything to hurt his best friend, homosexual love was beyond both of their realms of understanding. Especially Genrou's- and especially when the one Houjun loved was him, himself.

Ou Chisiou was the most intelligent child known in the city. He was also friendly, cute as anything, and extremely helpful. But he was small, and he was sickly, and the cost of his 'waste' to his somewhat-backwards family was high.

Chang Ryuu was a fragile looking man with an almost unearthly beauty. Only haunted by memories of something he could not figure out and thoughts of a handsome blonde man, Ryuu lived for acting and plays. Maybe a memory would speak to him through that.

Ainkyuu Taichi was a football player at the local high school, and could hardly do anything without direction. His intelligence was of no fault of his own, but the fault of abuse, and his violent actions were the only way he knew how to survive. Yet, even with excuses, the actions continued.

Nu Koushin and Nu Shuun had almost nothing in common. Shuun was violent, expressive, passionate, short-tempered, and often rude. Koushin was peaceful, introverted, calm, musical and extreamly polite. Their interests were nothing alike, their thoughts were nothing alike. Yet, closer to each other than they were closer to themselves, life's tries at dividing them were unsuccessful.

Who were they?

Why were they?

What strings of fate bound them together, along with others scattered around? 

And why did these strings choose THEM?

OPEN YOURSELVES TO ETERNITY

TO OUR 'FUSHIGI YUUGI'


End file.
